


Undercurrent of Remorse

by Oppo Rancisis (NowThatsDedication)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, forbidden Jedi love, there was an attempt...at writing steamy stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:01:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 15,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23497945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NowThatsDedication/pseuds/Oppo%20Rancisis
Summary: A collection of short Obitine stories. Romance, comedy, angst, whatever - I’ve got you covered.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze
Comments: 38
Kudos: 213





	1. Meditation

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr. Feedback always appreciated :)

“You shouldn’t be looking at _me_.”

“Oh?” Satine’s daydreaming was interrupted. “I was just...waiting for your cue.”

“You’re not supposed to be looking at anything. Close your eyes,” Obi-Wan instructed. 

She obeyed, reluctantly. But not before taking in one last glance of the composed Jedi sitting cross legged in front of her. 

“Meditation is a way to calm our minds. That’s why Master Qui-Gon suggested you may benefit from it.”

“I’m so grateful he did.” If her eyes were open, she would have rolled them. “Now what?” 

“Focus on your breath.”

Satine inadvertently focused on his instead; deep inhales, steady exhales that prickled her skin with desire. _Imagine how that would feel on your neck, on your-_

“I think I might fall asleep!” she declared in an effort to break her distraction. 

“You’re supposed to relax, not pass out. That’s not the point. This is meditation, not a sleep aid.” 

“Same difference,” she muttered. 

“Identify your emotions, whatever has been troubling you.”

She seriously attempted to follow directions; there were plenty of fears and anxieties to choose from. Yet her mind still wandered, sinking toward the inappropriate again. 

“Obi-Wan? How should I be sitting?”

“Straight, tall, with your-”

“Show me.”

“Watch me.”

“You told me _not_ to look at you. And to close my eyes. If I open them, I’ll lose my concentration again.” 

“Fine, I’ll move you slightly then.” 

He straightened her back with a soft and purposeful touch, adjusting her hands to rest on her knees. When he gently cupped her face to position her neck, his fingers tangled in her hair. Satine let out a soft sigh.

“Sorry.”

“No worries. Am I ready now?”

“Yes. Uh, I hope so.” Obi-Wan had moved from sitting across to beside her. His knee brushed ever so slightly against her thigh. She had assumed meditation required more personal space, but was happy to be wrong. 

The duchess tried once again to clear her mind - that’s what this was for, wasn’t it? But it would spitefully return to the same memories: 

The few glimpses she had gotten of his bare chest, shining with sweat...

_You need to stop this._

His strong arms shielding her from countless threats... 

_No_.

Those eyes, piercing through her with inscrutable intensity...

 _Enough_. 

His hair... _maybe not his hair._

When these thoughts were successfully banished, her imagination kicked in, at full force:

How easy it would be, right now, to fall into his lap, straddle him. Tug that stupid braid to draw his lips to hers. And he returns that passion, letting her know his tongue was only just warming up. 

_Stop it, he wouldn’t have the first clue how to kiss you like that. He’s a Jedi. And he surely hasn't watched as many holodramas as you have._

But her mind continued to run wild. Now their mouths have advanced forth, exploring uncharted territory. Every part of her is on fire, a good fire. One only he can extinguish.

 _Calm down_.

The night air chills damp, bare skin, while their bodies move in a new yet instinctive rhythm.

 _Seducing a Jedi is not an admirable achievement._

He certainly doesn’t look composed and serene while begging, moaning her name-

“Satine.”

Her eyes flew open.

“Your breathing is very rapid. Are you alright?”

The duchess jumped up, face burning with embarrassment. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m better than this.”

“Pardon?”

“This isn’t for me. I can’t do it. I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts. Or you.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“Nothing, I didn’t mean...Obi-Wan, I respect you, as a person and as a protector and as a...friend. But I shouldn’t, I _really_ shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t what? I don’t understand.”

“Thank you for showing me, or trying to, at least. I hope one day I can teach you something of value,” she said, avoiding eye contact.

“But you’ve already taught me many colorful insults in Mando’a.” 

She ignored his attempt to lighten the mood. ”I need to go cool off...I mean, I need to go.” And with that, Satine left him there, confused. 

Obi-Wan had never seen her so frazzled, even during many harrowing situations. She must have relived some horrible event that upset her. 

It was probably for the best, though. He would have never been able to fully concentrate around her intoxicating scent; somehow she always managed to smell like flowers, no matter what dreary place they were hiding in. The Jedi almost lost it when his fingers caught in her hair earlier, and an accidental touch caused a near betrayal to his calm exterior. 

Satine was not as sweet as those flowers; she would probably rake her nails across his chest, whispering obscene commands in his ear. He would surrender to every word, every touch. 

This was wrong. It was all so wrong. Now he’d have to seriously meditate these feelings away. 

  
  



	2. Dressed for Draboon

“Venom mites,” Obi-Wan panted, “Not so easy to outrun, I see.” He leaned beside a tree, struggling to catch his breath. Satisfied at yet another daring rescue, he looked up expecting to find a gracious duchess; instead, he encountered a confusing sight. 

“Satine...what are you doing?”

She was frantically undressing. “You do _not_ want them to get under your clothes,” she explained, hurriedly undoing her belt. “We’ll need to check each other for stray mites.”

“Is this really necessary?” 

“Yes,” Satine asserted firmly, vigorously shaking each piece of clothing she shed. “Start stripping, Kenobi, or I’m not sharing the antidote.” She tossed the final item to the ground and turned to face him, in her underwear.

Obi-Wan averted his eyes. “I’ll give you some…privacy then, I-”

“Now is not the time for modesty!” she yelled as she spun around, scanning for mites. “Help me!” 

_It’s only a body_ , he reminded himself. But it happened to be Satine’s body, in very sheer undergarments that left nothing to the imagination. 

“Do you see any?” 

“Um, I-”

“Don’t just stand there gawking. This is life or death!”

“I’m- I’m not _gawking_ , Duchess.” 

He drew closer to examine her, doing his best not to settle his eyes too long on any one stretch of her soft, milky skin. “Oh,” he caught a spot slightly below her belly button and swatted at it. “No, only a freckle.” He pulled his hand away as if it had caught on fire.

“Good, I guess I’m safe then.” Her relief quickly turned to anger at the sight of Obi-Wan, fully clothed and not heeding her critical advice. 

“Well, what are you waiting for? Are you immune to poisonous venom?” 

“No, I’m assessing the severity of the situation, and I believe-”

“We don’t have time!” She rushed to him and began undoing his tunic. “How many layers?! This is so impractical!” Too many hands grabbing at once caused more complications and frustration. “Do they make you wear this so you can never take it off?”

“You have to undo the...wait...no, no, let me...ow!” With one arm almost nearly out of his sleeve, they were making progress. Until-

“Obi-Wan…do you hear that?”

They turned to find a floating mass of mites buzzing toward them at a worrying speed. 

“It appears they are back,” he stated the obvious, swallowing hard. 

“You couldn’t sense them sooner, _Jedi_?” she hissed, gathering up her discarded garments. 

“Sorry, I was busy searching for freckles and being viciously disrobed!”

“How ungrateful! I was trying to save your life!”

With only seconds left to react, Obi-Wan scooped Satine up into his arms and took off running from the approaching swarm. 

“What are you doing?!”

“Now I’m saving yours!”

He sprinted into the woods, scouring the terrain for coverage; anything to escape the possibility of being felled by paralyzing venom. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan’s head was humming louder than the mites, with a barrage of uncomfortable thoughts. 

_Qui-Gon is going to be furious… if we live through this._

_She is practically naked, this is highly inappropriate. Don’t look at her, don’t look down._

_And she tried to tear my clothes off! It would have been arousing in other situations but definitely not this one. But I really shouldn’t be thinking about it._

_What if there are venom mites in my pants?_

_Don’t look down._

And he didn’t, which is why Obi-Wan failed to notice the gnarled tree root protruding from the ground and stumbled so abruptly that even the force couldn’t prevent this most ungraceful fall. He dropped Satine, and to make matters even more awkward, landed sprawled atop her. _This day keeps getting worse and worse._

Another daring, disastrous rescue; but at least he outran the venom mites. 


	3. Becoming Ben Kenobi

“We still have some time, no need to hurry and run off just yet.” These were not the words Obi-Wan wished to utter after such an intimate encounter, but it was welcome news nonetheless. 

“Good. I am in no condition to run anywhere,” Satine granted a quick kiss and rolled off of him with a sigh of gratification.

“You’re welcome, I guess?”

“Oh? We’re supposed to waste our precious minutes with thank yous now?” she teased.

Finding time to be alone was becoming almost as difficult as fleeing assassins. Maybe that was part of the thrill. It was nice to have a moment to compose themselves for once, allowing Satine a rare opportunity to observe Obi-Wan in this state of euphoric exhaustion. She absentmindedly twirled his braid around her fingers, watching his chest rise and fall into a more relaxed pattern. 

“Satine...there’s something I need to ask you.” His face became flush with trepidation. “I don’t mean to pry, but-”

“What is it?” She winced, expecting a question she wouldn’t want to answer. 

“You were saying  _ Ben  _ during...and, well, I believe you’ve said it before too. Who is Ben?”

Satine buried a laugh into his shoulder. Never had she been so relieved that he couldn’t understand her native language. “You are, dear.” 

“Oh,” he sputtered, still confused. “Why were you calling me Ben?” 

“Just a pet name I decided on, no reason.” It was the least complicated explanation she could give, without delving into idioms or admitting certain feelings.

“Feel free to call me whatever you’d like _. In private _ , that is.”

“I couldn’t imagine a more beautiful name than yours,” he praised, still under a spell of carnal bliss. 

“Please keep your maudlin compliments to yourself. That’s not what I’m here for,” the duchess protested while inwardly swooning. 

Obi-Wan flashed an innocent smile. “You’re the one bestowing nicknames.”

“How do you know it’s with affection?” she yanked at the braid still entwined in her fingers. 

”Oh, just an assumption based on how you were, uh,  _ vocalizing _ it.” 

“And your assumptions are usually  _ wrong _ !” 

Somewhere beneath a heap of robes, a comlink beeped. Obi-Wan sat up, suddenly solemn. “We need to go.”

They dressed in silence, an air of sadness hanging over them. Outside of these trysts, they couldn’t speak as candidly, couldn’t touch as tenderly without drawing suspicion to a complicated relationship. Deep down, they both knew it was futile, but neither was merciful enough to end it.

“Until next time,  _ Ben _ . Thank you.”

  
  



	4. Pillows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy AU where Satine lives and goes with Obi-Wan to Tatooine and she decorates his sad desert hut with lots of gaudy throw pillows and fish tanks and those little square trees from Mandalore.

“Do we really need...six...seven...EIGHT pillows, Satine?” Obi-Wan had missed a few still. The small mountain on the bed must rival nearby cliffs in height, he thought. 

The former duchess of Mandalore narrowed her eyes, “Yes. Yes we do.” 

“I can't understand why. I don’t even use  _ one _ .” Obi-Wan knew nothing other than the austerity of the Jedi; she was introducing him to her previous opulent life in small yet baffling ways. 

“They aren’t for sleeping on,” she corrected, fluffing a silk tasseled one that was particularly garish. “They are for decoration. I know that’s a foreign concept to you but this is my home now, too.”

“Of course, dear. I don't want to deny you your luxuries at the expense of your comfort.” He meant it, but it still came out with a tinge of sarcasm. 

“I hardly consider anything about our living situation a luxury,” she retorted with a haughty grin. 

“I do think, however, that you’re being a tiny bit excessive. Where did you even  _ find  _ them all? We are on the edge of civilization. Water here is a scarce commodity, and yet-“

“Forgive me for wanting to be a little  _ civilized _ .” Perhaps Satine was taking this too personally now but she didn’t care; she already had to sacrifice valuable space for his meditation corner. “Live amongst the banthas then!” 

“The banthas are more sensible!”

“After all we’ve been through, we’re arguing about pillows. Damned  _ pillows _ , Obi!” She tossed one dramatically onto the ground. 

At least it was no longer about philosophical disagreements. But still heated. So heated that they were now mere inches from each other’s faces, intensity burning hotter than the two suns currently beating down on their overly decorated hut. Where they were hidden and free to do whatever they liked; for instance, pouncing on each other like feral tookas attacking prey, their hands moving faster than the tendrils of a sarlacc. And when they both collapsed onto the heap of pillows, Obi-Wan considered, fleetingly, that maybe they weren’t such a bad idea after all. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. A Little Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after TCW season 4 Kadavo slavery episodes

“And why are you coming here? Are you paying me a visit or will you be causing trouble again?”

A transmission from Obi-Wan Kenobi usually meant trouble. But the duchess welcomed it. In fact, she was quite pleased by this announcement. 

“I’ve been placed on leave. It was recommended I travel somewhere relaxing. To heal.”

“Heal? Are you alright?”

“Nothing too serious. More as a mental respite.”

“You are aware I am a very busy woman, with leading Mandalore _and_ a council of over fifteen hundred systems? I can’t personally attend to you during your little vacation.”

“I’m very much aware.” 

“But _if_ I can spare an evening, I might be able to offer a massage or two. To help you relax.”

“Well, it would be rude of me to refuse such an offer.”

*****

When Obi-Wan arrived, (under the pretense of “important Republic mediation”) Satine was stunned, and not for the usual reasons. She should have expected it from a man who habitually downplayed major catastrophes. “Nothing serious,” _indeed_. 

“Obi, you look…” she hesitated to use the word ‘awful’ - he still looked rather handsome, even in this pathetic state - “... _tired_.” She was afraid to touch him, fearing he would keel over with the slightest breeze. He appeared broken, inside and out, but still very much _Kenobi_.

“What happened to you?” 

“I’d prefer not to discuss details, but I was briefly enslaved.”

“Enslaved?!” She covered her mouth in shock. “I thought you came here in need of rest, not serious medical attention!” 

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” he limped toward her, wincing from some other hidden injury. He wasn’t playing this up for pity or coddling, as she first suspected. He needed help. 

She whisked him away to be scanned and evaluated at a private facility. As she anxiously awaited the results, Obi-Wan remained stoic, skeptical that any of this fuss was necessary. 

Satine read off the data. “You have broken ribs! And yet you were traveling around acting as if everything was fine! What is _wrong_ with you?”

“Broken ribs, apparently.” 

“Wait, there’s more,” she continued, growing more horrified at each diagnosis. “Multiple internal injuries, dislocations, extensive scarring, electrocution, severe bruising, evidence of several concussions-”

“Are you sure that’s all from this past mission?”

“How did you survive this!?”

He dropped his head into his hands. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”

“I’m tempted to hold you here indefinitely. You need more time to recover. Physically, mentally…”

“That would be lovely, dear, but suppose if I kept you from _your_ obligations.”

“Fair enough. Fix him up,” she ordered the medical droids. “I have business to attend to.”

“What are my instructions? Besides staying out of trouble, of course?” 

“Please, _please_ rest, you fool.” she begged. 

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Absolutely not.” 

*****

It was late by the time Satine was able to return. Obi-Wan had been sending her private messages throughout the day, which she checked frequently and discreetly.

_Feeling much better..._  
_All patched up, longing to see you..._  
_What was that about a massage?_

When his communication abruptly ended a short time ago, she grew slightly worried. What if he passed out somewhere, another concussion rendering him an amnesiac? What if he decided that Jedi business could not wait and he fled back to Coruscant in the middle of a bacta treatment?

But no, he was still alive, still present. Sound asleep. Curled up in bed, Obi-Wan was safe for the first time in ages. Satine nestled in beside him, careful not to disturb his peaceful slumber. it was a deep, deserved sleep; he did not even react to her kiss or a whispered promise of an overdue massage. 

  
  
  
  



	6. Stress

“Are we going to talk about what happened last night?” 

The young Jedi finally broke the silence with a sheepish inquiry. 

“What is there to talk about?” the duchess feigned indifference. What had happened was passionate, a little awkward, and absolutely  _ wonderful _ . She had no regrets. “You often remind me that dwelling on the past is wasteful. Last night is in the past.” 

“It is, yes. But I need to know,” Obi-Wan persisted, “what are we doing?”

“We are running, hiding, and surviving, as usual,” Satine answered, wringing her hands beneath her cloak. “That is what we’re doing.”

“No...what did it  _ mean _ ?”

_ Everything _ , she thought wistfully. Yet it was crucial that this indiscretion be downplayed; he didn’t deserve the inner turmoil. Life was complicated enough at the moment. 

“When faced with certain death, or what one  _ believes _ to be certain death, even the best of us can succumb to...impulses...that may be careless. We thought we were trapped in there with no escape. If those were your last hours alive, wouldn’t you want to die satisfied?”

He took a moment to digest the explanation. “Because you thought we were going to  _ die _ ?” His tone was incredulous, disappointed, even. “But you...we...that’s all?”

“That’s all. You seemed to enjoy it, so what does it matter?”

He broke eye contact, choosing to focus on his boots instead. “Did you?” he asked shyly. 

Satine bit her lip to hold back a smile. “I assumed that was obvious?” She took pride in making him blush once again. 

“I must offer my apologies for putting you in a position where you feared for your life. And for...well, I should have used better judgement.” 

“Really, Obi-Wan, it is  _ not _ a serious matter.” Satine declared with a trace of melancholy. “There is no need to analyze  _ or _ apologize. “However,” she added, her eyes brightening in an attempt to ease his qualms, “I must say, you seem far less uptight than you usually are.” 

“Uptight?” He protested, as if he couldn’t fathom such a label. 

“We were clearly just relieving stress. If you still insist on searching for meaning, there you have it.” She patted his arm, “See, no worries. Completely harmless. Healthy, even.”

“Perhaps meditation is a better option for us next time, then.” 

Satine couldn’t help but chuckle at the contradiction between activities; their spontaneous coupling was performed without stillness or silence or clothing, for that matter. 

“What is it?”

“Oh, nothing. I was just reminiscing, that’s all.” Now  _ she _ was blushing.

“Can we...can we  _ try _ to not be so obvious about this?” 

“Obvious to  _ who _ ? The bounty hunters chasing us?” 

“That’s not what I-”

“Your master will never suspect a thing,” she assured. “I would hate to have you sent back to Coruscant for breaking rules.”

“I did  _ not _ break any rules!” He insisted, crossing his arms. 

“Well, I’m no expert on your Jedi code but there was something about  _ attachment?” _

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly. “I have no attachments.”

“Neither do I,” she stiffened. “Weaker individuals would have mistaken such reckless physical acts as so.” 

“Yes, I believe so. And you are far from weak, Satine.” 

“As are you. I consider you a steadfast protector and  _ friend _ . Nothing more.” It hurt to say it, but it was necessary to keep up the charade of aloofness. 

He concurred with a slow nod, “We may disagree at times…most times, even, but I do enjoy your company. Uh, only in the appropriate ways of course.”

“Unless we find ourselves alone again and in need of stress-relieving acts.”

“ _What_?”

She brushed past him, concealing a playful grin.


	7. Voyage of Frustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place onboard the Coronet, after the whole assassination attempt/hostage situation/ill-timed confession stuff.

_The Jedi is here to speak with you_

“Let him in, please,” Satine ordered into the intercom. Of course she was still awake at this hour. _Of course_ he was, too. 

Obi-Wan entered, flanked by two of the duchess’s personal guards. He discreetly gestured at Satine to call them off. 

“You may go. I am exceptionally safe right now.” They were alone. Finally. 

He appeared more unkempt than he had a few hours ago, the night’s events having taken their toll. “How are you?” It was sincere concern, not a formality. 

“I’m fine, thank you.” Her hands trembled ever so slightly. It did not go unnoticed. 

“Really? With all that’s happened?” 

“I _said_ I’m fine.” She picked up the drink she had been nursing and took a long sip. “I appreciate your company, Obi-Wan, but not your badgering.”

“If you could be honest with me-” 

“I’m not in the mood for more confessions.”

“They were hardly confessions, Satine. Just because we’ve never spoken them aloud doesn’t mean we didn’t already _know.”_

She set down her glass, conceding to his truthful observation. “I suppose you’re right. Nothing has changed, has it? We only dredged up the past.” Obi-Wan offered his arm and gently led her to sit. “I’m sorry I did.”

“Please don’t, don’t apologize.” He joined her on the edge of the sofa, drawing in a deep breath. “There’s one thing I need to know...that is, if you don’t mind living in the past for a moment longer.”

“I don’t mind at all,” she managed a forlorn smile.

“Why didn’t you ask me to stay?” 

“Obi,” she sighed, “I’ve already told you the reason once this evening. Don’t force me to say it again.”

“Because you loved me.” He understood now. 

“The galaxy needed you more than I did. I couldn’t bring myself to unravel your entire life, everything you worked toward and believed it. That is not to say I agree with your current... _entanglements_ ,” she added, with gentle disgust. “But that was your path. This is mine. Anything else was foolish. Just dreams.” 

She was right, but truth isn’t necessarily a salve for an aching heart. 

Satine continued, gathering enough strength to pour her heart out further. “And if I happened to hold on to some of those dreams, perhaps that makes me a fool. That is the real confession here…I could never let go.” 

“Letting go is never easy. I tried my hardest to forget about you. And us.”

She blinked away a tear. “I understand.”

“But I never succeeded.”

They entered a long break from speaking, too lost in each other’s eyes to find words. Grateful for whatever had pulled them back together, be it the Force or politics or terrorists. But this was not a second chance, or a rekindling. They were beyond that now. This was closure. A dream.

“Shall we live in the past for a few moments longer?” 

He swept a lock of hair from her cheek. “Only a few, if you can spare them.” 

Satine lowered her dress in invitation, revealing bare shoulders that were soon inundated with kisses.

Down her neck and across her collarbone they continued, beard brushing against skin. It was a thrilling sensation, albeit one she’d have to get accustomed to. She gently tugged on his auburn hair to lead him back and their lips met, hungrily, a long-awaited reunion only breaking for air or a stray moan. 

She pressed her palms against his chest, quick heartbeat pounding against them, and lowered him onto his back. “Are you sure?” 

Obi-Wan answered by sliding his hand up her exposed thigh. 

“You certainly haven’t changed much,” she whispered, fingertips gliding down his chest, lower, lower, until they reached their intended destination and his body trembled beneath hers. Despite the years apart, she still possessed the power to reduce this man to whimpers.

He grasped her hips to keep her anchored, one determined hand eventually wandering inward; she shivered, anticipating what was to come. 

_Duchess, you have an incoming message_

They jumped; it was as unpleasant as being doused with ice. 

“W-what is the content?” Satine hoped she didn’t sound too frazzled. 

_It’s urgent_

She unleashed some undignified swears under her breath and adjusted her dress. Obi-Wan ran his fingers through now tousled hair and sighed. “You’re in high demand, my dear.” 

“Another time,” she promised with an apologetic kiss. 


	8. Thankful

Obi-Wan stumbled out of the collapsing cave with a cloud of debris swirling around him. Another close call.

_Thank the stars_ , Satine released the breath she was holding in. _The fool_. 

The Jedi brushed off his sleeves, glancing back at the destruction behind him. “I thought I told you to run a safe distance away from here. You’re practically spectating.”

“You tell me a lot of things,” she waved her hand dismissively, “but it doesn’t mean I have to listen to them, _Padawan Kenobi._ ”

“It was not a suggestion, _Duchess_. It was for your safety.” He shook more dirt and dust from his robe. 

“If you hadn’t insisted on taking this short cut in the first place, this would not have happened.” 

“It was a short cut until it caved in,” Obi-Wan countered defensively. “You’re without a scratch, are you not?”

“Thankfully, your antics haven’t scarred me yet. But I’m beginning to think you enjoy these... _heroics_.”

He leaned in closer, “I enjoy us not getting crushed to death.” 

“Crushed to death!” Satine laughed. “So dramatic!” She flicked his braid behind his shoulder. “It was not _that_ serious.”

“It was, and you should be thankful I managed to get you out of there!” 

Their quarrel stirred her heart. They always did. She might not get another chance at this, especially if he continued to be a reckless fool. She grabbed his face and bestowed a lengthy, desperate kiss. If it was possible to taste like surprise, he would have. She hoped she didn’t taste like regret. 

The duchess pulled away to find the recipient of her impulsive affection flushed and confused. Obi-Wan hadn’t protested. He hadn’t returned it, either. She was quite sure no one had ever kissed this boy before; perhaps he didn’t know how to reciprocate. Or, she feared, he had no desire to. 

“W-what was...why did you do that?” Obi-Wan stammered. He backed away slowly, as if she might pounce again.

It was not the reaction she had hoped for, so she answered with an impromptu lie. “It’s a....Mandalorian custom, a gesture of appreciation.” 

“Mandalorians show gratitude with their _tongues_ , Satine?!”

“You seem upset, so I guess I won’t be thanking you again. If it was _that_ terrible to endure-”

“Did I say it was?” Obi-Wan crossed his arms. “You’re putting words in my mouth!”

“Don’t worry, I will stay _far_ away from your mouth for the rest of this wretched ordeal!” She stomped away, fists clenched. _Why did he have to make things so complicated?_ _Could he not take a hint?_

“Wait, Satine, wait! I didn’t mean to offend you,” he chased after, genuinely apologetic. 

“Well, you have,” she shot back. “Just...forget about it.” 

How could he? Obi-Wan was smitten by the duchess. ‘Smitten’ was probably not an approved Jedi sentiment, but the heart is not bound by rules. 

Her explanation was obviously false, he figured, but why did she do it? She didn’t care for him like _that_ , definitely not enough to warrant a kiss. Satine made fun of his hair constantly, started arguments over the smallest minutiae, and seemed to find pleasure in his irritation. Escaping danger was simple; figuring out Satine was not. 

***

Obi-Wan’s disheveled appearance and Satine’s agitation hinted at another near catastrophe. Qui-Gon didn’t even bother to ask what had occurred.

“Did I not tell you to keep the duchess nearby? We are being hunted and you put her in danger once again.”

His apprentice winced, horrified at the accusation he would cause her harm. “Master, I would never-”

“It was all my idea,” Satine interrupted, ready to passionately defend him via deception. “I insisted, no, _demanded_ , Obi-Wan bring me out there. Nothing dangerous occurred, but I do apologize. It was irresponsible. There is enough out there threatening our lives without these pointless risks.” She glanced over at her speechless protector, who appeared to be having an epiphany of some sort. 

“Thank you for your honesty. Next time I hope you use better judgment.” The Jedi studied both of them. _Liars_. He had always assumed the duchess was too self-righteous to deceive. And Obi-Wan...something was clouding his mind. He would speak to his padawan later. But for now, there was a lead he must follow regarding their safety. 

Now alone again, out of sight and sound of a suspicious Qui-Gon, the young Jedi took Satine’s hand and brought it to his lips. 

“Obi-Wan?” It was an unexpected action, quick, but her heart still skipped. 

“Just following _customs_ , duchess,” he winked, full of newfound boldness. 

“Customs? What? _Oh_...I told you to forget about that.“

“You can tell me, but that doesn’t mean I’ll listen. I’m thanking you for taking the fall and not mentioning our misadventure.”

“I see…” Satine gave a coy smile. “I’ll admit, I’ve been rude for not offering my appreciation for the many, many times you have previously come to my rescue.” 

“It’s not necessary. Unless you really _want_ to, then I’ll accept.”

She kissed his cheek. “That’s for the first day we met, when our ship crashed.” She then punctuated every event from the last couple of months with another kiss: “The bombing...the bounty hunter...the other bounty hunters...the second bombing...the quicksand...that time we got lost….” 

Obi-Wan pushed away all his conflicting emotions and waited for her to run out of rescues. He then leaned in and offered some more gratitude, trying to match the passion behind her earlier effort. It was not a particularly confident kiss, but with practice came great skill, he believed. _I don’t know if this is wrong, or what will happen, but I’m going to focus on the present._

“What was that for?” she asked, dreamily. 

“For sharing your, uh, tradition with me. I think it will be useful.” 


	9. Pet

“What is this?” Satine was perplexed as to why Obi-Wan had stopped by unannounced, accompanied by a loathsome looking creature. 

“A juvenile Corellian hound,” he explained, holding tight to its leash. 

“I can see that, but what is it  _ doing _ here?” 

“It followed me around on my last campaign. I couldn’t just leave him in the middle of a war zone.”

“Of course not. We know how soft you are about animals. Do you remember the time you befriended that pack of blurrgs?”

“Ah, yes,” he reminisced, stroking his beard. “This fellow has become rather attached to me, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, that  _ would _ be a problem, wouldn’t it? She reluctantly patted its wrinkled head as saliva dripped from its prominent, uneven fangs. 

“So what do you think of my new friend?” 

“It’s...cute,” Satine gently shooed it away from chewing the leg of a chair. 

“Well, since I can’t keep him at the temple, I thought he deserved a peaceful home,” he proposed, handing over the leash. 

“I’m more of a tooka person, Obi-Wan. And I really haven't the time or commitment for such a high maintenance pet.” The hound sneezed, spraying drool across an impressive radius. 

“He’s no more high maintenance than you are, Satine.”

“How kind of you, dear.”

“And his fur matches the color of your furniture, that’s a plus.”

“I don’t think that’s  _ fur.” _

“He might be of use for protection. They are very loyal, and easy to train as guards.”

“As if I need more needy creatures devoted to my safety,” the duchess muttered. 

“How about to keep you company, then? Someone to talk to at the end of the day when all others are unavailable.” 

The hound wobbled over and lay down at Satine’s feet, enthusiastically wagging its stump of a tail. 

“You can be rather persuasive,” she smiled, “you and your little friend here. I suppose I can adopt this poor beast. He does sound like a worthy companion.”

“I knew you couldn’t say no. We know how soft you are when it comes to animals,” Obi-Wan teased, scratching the hound beneath its chin.

“Does this mean you’ll visit more often? To check in on your darling pet?”

“I believe I already do.”

  
  



	10. And Still Does

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the events in TCW season 7, episode 9

Obi-Wan avoids Bo-Katan for the short time she is likely to remain onboard. He shouldn’t have to explain his position again. Or his feelings. 

But she later approaches him once more; cold, ruthless, nothing like her sister. Although, to be honest, neither of them were easy to reason with. But Obi-Wan understands. He can’t fault her for wanting to save Mandalore. 

“What is it now?” he asks curtly. She doesn’t seem to appreciate politeness. 

Bo-Katan grabs his hand, forcefully, and shoves a small object into his palm. It’s a jewel, deep blue and brilliant, the shape of a Mandalorian Iron Heart. 

“It was my sister’s. We found it on her when we…” she trails off. He isn’t listening anyway. 

The Jedi momentarily loses his breath. “If this is an attempt to guilt me into-”

“Does it matter?” she interrupts, “you seem to have made up your mind already.”

“I don’t think Satine would have appreciated being used as a pawn,” he restrains his indignation, barely.

“As if you should talk about _using_ her! You abandoned her all those years ago!”

The accusation stings, twists his heart. “That’s not...not what happened.” It’s futile. Now he is forced to relive old wounds too. 

“You don’t even deserve that,” she nods at the gem, disgusted. 

“I don’t deserve anything,” he circles his thumb around it, fighting to conceal his grief. Obi-Wan refuses to return anymore hostilities; she is angry and lashing out, and he is above that. 

“Keep it. I have no use for her symbols of delusion. Look where she ended up.” There’s a trace of hurt in her contempt. Perhaps some guilt. 

He drops the jewel into a pouch on his belt, shoves away all of his failures while remaining civil. “As I told you before, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need your condolences,” Bo-Katan growls.

“No. I’m sorry I couldn’t save her.”

She shakes her head and walks out. It’s the last that she, and soon the galaxy, will see of Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

**** Weeks Later ****

Obi-Wan is not adjusting well to the abrupt and violent end of his life. 

Every movement, every thought, is numb. The silence is beginning to gnaw at him, the fear of a man who has never truly been alone. 

He has already hidden away traces of his past, nearly breaking down again as he placed two lightsabers into a chest. 

While clearing out the contents of his belt, items with no further use or meaning, a sharp edge digs into his fingers. He pulls out a shining blue jewel and cracks a sad smile, one nobody will see. 

A part of her has been with him through these darkest times. Obi-Wan is broken, but he was loved.  _ Is _ loved. 

If all he has left are her words, then with them, perhaps, he can endure this new uncertain life. 

He tucks it away into his pocket. “I always will,” he whispers.

  
  



	11. A Lost Life

Obi-Wan has never had a vision before; at least, he assumes that’s what this is. 

While meditating, a strange, out of body sensation washes over him. It’s not alarming, but rather calming. Ethereal, even. He briefly debates whether he wants to ever return to reality. 

He opens his eyes. No longer in the temple, yet someplace he’s been before, he can sense it. His surroundings are dreamlike, slightly blurry, with his consciousness still present and alert. Beams of light flicker across the floor, reflecting off glass. A vast room, blindingly bright. 

A child runs by, unknown to him but so very familiar. A very young boy, reddish-gold hair and blue eyes. _Is that...me?_ Perhaps it is not a vision, but an early, forgotten memory. Life before the Jedi. Obi-Wan observes the boy with curiosity, as if he might unlock some mystic truth. 

The shadowy figure of a woman steps into sight, tall and poised, holding a...baby? Yes, it appears so. She beckons to the boy, silently, for this vision is muted save for Obi-Wan’s own breaths. He watches the silhouette, enraptured, as the rays of sunlight unveil her face.

_Satine_...

It has been a few years since he last saw her, and any thoughts of her are reluctantly banished. She must have a family now, he surmises, disheartened even though he knows he shouldn’t be. Why is the force showing me this? _What if she is in danger, what if-_

Another figure appears. He kisses her, strokes the children’s hair. He smiles. He is Obi-Wan. A different Obi-Wan, no Jedi robes, no padawan braid. He is married to the woman he loved. Loves. They have _children_.

It feels as if he is watching something he shouldn’t, but he can’t look away. At this moment, he would give up everything to reach out and touch them. 

An alternate life eventually fades away. He opens his eyes, for real this time, and they are gone. Only the walls of the temple and his doubts remain.

_Was I supposed to stay with Satine? Or could this still be my destiny? I’m not sure if she’d still want me. Did she ever? Was it only my subconscious desires manifesting as a vision?_

It tears at him all day. He checks for news on Mandalore just to make sure Satine is alright. There is nothing noteworthy, so she is presumably safe. She is also unmarried, a fact he stumbles upon and is somewhat relieved he did. 

Qui-Gon believes Force visions have deeper, hidden meanings from what they appear on the surface. 

Obi-Wan struggles to attribute a greater significance to it, but keeps returning to the idea that it’s merely a scene from a lost life. 

He debates seeking his master’s advice, but 

Qui-Gon senses the torment within his apprentice and confronts him first. 

“Something is weighing on your mind,” he notes, somewhat accusatory. 

Obi-Wan wishes he could tell him about the vision. He can’t do it. He was encouraged to forget about her; this will make him seem weak, attached, unfit for the Order. Instead, he asks vaguely, “Master, how do we reconcile our actions when we don’t know if they’ll be correct?”

“By not focusing on what _could_ have been, or what _may_ be. By living in the present. What happens is meant to happen, and imagining otherwise causes us to suffer.” 

The young Jedi nods. He is certainly suffering.

“What fueled this concern?” Qui-Gon studies him with suspicion.

“Nothing in particular,” he nearly chokes on the lie, “just overthinking again.”

“Perhaps it is latent anxiety over your next steps. Your days of being a padawan will be coming to an end soon.”

That is what he wants, isn’t it? Serve as peacekeeper to the galaxy? To make his sacrifices worthwhile? _That vision was not my path. The Force must have shown me as a test._ If he repeats that enough, he may begin to believe it.

“You may be right. I am fully committed to my training,

but I occasionally have some doubts about...my abilities.” 

Obi-Wan pushes it all away; the little boy who resembles him, the baby girl with golden hair, His love, Satine, who asked him to stay. 

_None of it is real._ He won’t allow himself to be attached to a dream. It disappears further into the depths of his mind, buries itself away in his heart. 

“Do you think it’s time for me to be considered for the trials?” 

“After our next mission, I’ll evaluate your readiness. We are being sent to mediate a dispute with the Trade Federation….”

  
  



	12. Disguise

“Try not to draw attention to yourself.” Obi-Wan raised the hood of his robe. “You never know who may be watching,” 

Satine and Obi-Wan walked cautiously through the winding aisles of an outdoor marketplace. They weren’t even sure what planet they were on at the moment, yet nowhere was truly safe when being tracked. A venture outside to replenish their rations was risky, but necessary. 

“I _know_ what to do,” Satine shot back, her face half obscured by her cloak. 

“Oh, I’m _sure_ you do,” he muttered, “you know _everything_.”

Earlier, he had asked her to help conceal his padawan braid; she accidentally stabbed him with a hairpin, which caused a minor argument (“Why would I do it on purpose?!”) and inevitably a delay in their plans. He was still slightly agitated. So was she. 

They approached a stall and began filling up sacks with food to last until...they weren’t sure, exactly. 

“Be wary of the other merchants, they’ll gouge prices and sell you inferior products,” the seller advised dishonestly. “Don’t want anyone to take advantage of such a pretty young couple.”

Obi-Wan balked, fear in his eyes, “We are _not_ a couple-”

“-Of fools,” Satine cut him off, “we know how to bargain.” She threw down some credits, grabbed the food and her Jedi protector, and hurried away. 

“What were you thinking?” she hissed, “am I so repulsive you can’t act along for the sake of blending in?”

“No, no you aren’t repulsive, Duchess.”

“We must avoid appearing suspicious,” she ordered, scanned the crowd, “and obviously it would help if you stopped referring to me by that title.”

“When did you become such an expert at sneaking around?” She never ceased to surprise Obi-Wan. 

“I have many skills you’re not aware of,” she whispered, “I thought you’d be more proficient at this.”

“Sorry if I find it difficult to lie.”

“It’s not lying! Should you have confessed that you are in fact a Jedi and I am a wanted sovereign with a very large bounty on my head?”

He sighed, unwilling to continue the tiff. His scalp was beginning to ache from whatever she had done to his braid. He figured he was lucky she didn’t simply cut it off. 

“I suggest we should purchase some additional clothing as well.” 

“This isn’t a shopping trip, Satine. We are here for food.”

“Clothing is a necessity too. How long can I go before my remaining attire becomes unsalvageable and I’m forced to traverse in the nude?”

“I- I’m sure it wouldn’t come to that,” he stammered. 

“You could use a new outfit. I’m sick of staring at that same… _drab_ ensemble every day.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Your snobbery is showing.”

“I’m being practical! Different clothes would be useful as a disguise, since that appears to be our new plan of action.”

“We really ought to be lightening our cargo as we travel, not expanding our wardrobe.”

“Well, you have enough room to carry around your enormous load of pretension.”

They reached another stall, still hurling insults at each other with a passion, inadvertently drawing attention to themselves. 

“Ah, a lovers’ quarrel,” the merchant commented, “how cute.”

Satine shot the woman a shocked, defensive glare. “We're just bickering, we are _not_ in-”

“-Any mood for conversation, thank you.” Obi-Wan salvaged the exchange and pulled her away. “Oh, _now_ who won’t play along?”

“Sorry. I was caught off guard, I guess. _Ugh_ , why does everyone think we’re _together_?” 

“I’m not sure, though it makes for a good disguise.”

“Perhaps we should...go with it?” Satine suggested, with reservation. “It may be difficult to endure, but we seem to be fooling others without much effort.” 

“Agreed. I suppose I can pretend. _For our safety_.”

“Of course.”

  
  
  
  
  



	13. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Obi-Wan returns from faking his death in The Clone Wars season 4.

It was good to be Obi-Wan Kenobi again after assuming a false identity  _ and _ face. Yet as harrowing as that was, he was now more frightened to confront the Duchess than he had been during the undercover mission. Thankfully her nonviolent ways would ensure no objects would be lobbed at his head, even if he did deserve it. But he was fully bracing himself for a barrage of verbal assaults hurled his way; he knew her temper well. 

Here she was, arms crossed against a black mourning gown, her blue eyes narrowing in ire. 

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “Satine, I-”

She raised her hand to silence him. “Back from the dead, I see.”

“You seem disappointed by that,” he retorted flippantly; inside he was plagued by guilt. 

“You have some nerve to come here and speak to me after  _ faking your own death.” _

“It was rather impressive. I had everyone fooled,” he grinned, attempting to ease the tension.

“Including me.” She strode toward him, still elegant in her rage. He flinched, not knowing what to expect; she flung her arms around his neck, in a rather tight embrace.

“You were dead, Obi, you were dead! I was at your funeral, I was...you are so  _ cruel _ . How dare you! How  _ dare _ you do that! You hurt everyone who cares about you!”

He cut her off, ashamed, “I did what I had to. Even if you don’t agree with it, I hope you understand.”

Satine buried her face into his shoulder, “I find myself disagreeing with you too much these days,” she sniffled. 

“I’m far from perfect,” he smoothed her hair, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

She remained in his arms, the only place she ever felt truly safe, and waited for her anger to wane. Eventually a small smile crept across her tear streaked face. “When I found out you were alive, I almost wanted to kill you myself.”

“You’d be joining a growing list, I’m afraid.”

“I do worry about you out there. Sometimes I feel like I’m one of the few who does.”

“I worry about you too. Will you accept my apology?” His eyes pleaded with hers, searching for an answer. 

“Yes. I’m too relieved to hold a grudge.”

“Well that’s a relief. We know you’re fond of grudges.”

“You're exaggerating,” she nudged him playfully. 

“Am I? Remember the time you refused to speak to me for nearly six full days?”

“You led me into a sinkhole and it ruined the last dress I had in my possession!”

“Oh, I don't recall it being  _ ruined _ . Now who’s exaggerating?”

“But I can be  _ very _ forgiving.” Satine ran her fingers across his jaw, noticing his beard was shorter than usual. “I do hope this returns to its full glory.”

“I thought you didn’t like it?”

“I’m quite fond of it now,” she confessed, “It has grown on me.”

“It’s been growing on me too,” he smiled, pleased with his bad joke. 

“Shhh,” the Duchess silenced him, trailing her thumb across his lips. It was a moment of weakness. She should be allowed  _ one _ , she reasoned, after staying so strong through this latest ordeal. 

So she kissed him.

The Jedi stepped back, surprised, but he reciprocated; there was a passion behind it she did not expect. One shaking hand slid down to her waist, the other cupped her face. Before she had time to process any of it, her back was against the wall. Their bodies fused together, disregarding all consequences. 

As good as it felt, a sudden realization snapped her back to reality. Satine had been through this before, and couldn’t do this to Obi-Wan again. She loved him too much. She reluctantly broke the kiss, but to her dismay, his mouth dropped down to her neck. He continued, lost in ill-timed desire.

“Stop,” she pulled away. 

“Sorry.”

“So am I.” She shut her eyes tightly. “I shouldn't have done that. We  _ promised _ each other we wouldn’t.”

“It’s alright,” he assured, still holding her close. 

“You may have hurt me with your little stunt, but I won’t hurt you,” she swore, coldly. 

“You could never hurt me, my dear.”

“You’ll regret it later. You  _ always _ do.”

He finally snapped out of the trance he was under. “I don’t...I don’t understand, why-”

“Next time, maybe stop me from throwing myself at you,” Satine wouldn't allow herself to cry again; she had already shed too many tears over Obi-Wan this week, this day. “You should go.”

“What?” 

“And it would be best if we ceased all communication.”

“ _ Satine _ !”

“You know why I’m doing this Obi-Wan, please respect my wishes.” 

“I’ve heard about the escalations. You need someone to confide in, someone you can trust.”

“Please, I can’t deal with this now,” she pressed her hand to her temple. “Our duties come first. I hate seeing you... _ question _ your choices, your life. It isn’t fair.”

“You can’t send me away again.”

That stung her deeply. “Maybe it would be easier if I pretend you really are gone.” She immediately regretted it and had to turn away. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I know,” he cast his eyes down, voice heavy with grief. “Perhaps you are right, though. Neither of us need distractions right now.”

Silence. A long, torturous silence. 

“If you do need me, you know how to reach me. I’ll be there,” Obi-Wan promised, raising her hand to a gentle kiss. “Take care.”

“You too.” Satine couldn’t bear to watch him walk out, and wondered if she would see him again. 


	14. Cold I

Satine’s lips tremble. The idea of a roaring fire’s wild, flickering flames lighting cave walls is thrilling, but in reality, it is awfully dull and not too comfortable. 

“You’re cold,” Obi-Wan signals her to join him on the opposite side of the fire. 

“Oh, what an  _ astute _ observation,” she looks toward the cave entrance, “but what if…”

“He won’t be back yet. And the alternative is freezing to death.”

“Well, if you insist it’s  _ that _ dire,” she stands up, shielding her face from the frigid air. Before she accepts the offer, she has one request. “Remove it,” she orders the Jedi. 

“Huh? Oh,” he sighs, unhooking his lightsaber from his belt. The Force forbid Satine swaddle up with a weapon in her proximity. 

She settles in on his lap and Obi-Wan wraps his arms around her, his oversized robe enveloping the both of them in a snug cocoon of brown cloth and body heat. 

The wind seems to cease as they cuddle together, thawing their hands and the tips of their noses against toasty skin. They remain snuggled up for a time, their steamy breaths escaping into the night sky. 

“Now I’m a little  _ too _ warm!” the Duchess admits. 

Obi-Wan puts out the fire with a wave of his hand. 

“It’s too dark to see anything!”

There is still enough light to detect a rakish smile from the young Jedi. Satine anticipates it might soon be hot enough to melt all the ice on the ground. 

“So we were just warming up, then…”

By the time they hear the footsteps, it’s too late. “Master, she was close to frostbite! I was only trying to warm her....”


	15. Cold II

Obi-Wan shivers, not sure if it’s from the cold or at the sight of her. He watches Satine, enraptured, as she rehearses a speech. 

She pauses, mid sentence. “No, no, that’s not an appropriate phrase. What do you think?” 

“I think I’m not too fond of politics.”

“But you  _ are _ fond of reminding me.” She shakes her head. “It isn’t political. At all! Were you even listening?”

He tries to change the subject. “I believe it’s getting rather chilly in here.” 

“As is often the case when one lounges about half-dressed in the middle of winter.”

“And here I thought it was just  _ you _ ,” he smirks, collecting his undershirt from the floor. 

“That’s not necessary.”

“What, my sarcasm?”

“The shirt.”

“But, it’s-”

“Cold? There are better solutions,” her eyes flash with delight.

“A blanket?” he tilts his head in confusion, causing a lock of hair to fall across his forehead. 

“Am I not sufficient?” she pouts.

“You  _ and _ a blanket would be perfect.” 

“I agree,” she drapes a large and luxuriously soft fleece around the both of them and nestles her head against his bare chest. “Better?”

“Hmm, getting there, I suppose.”

“So hard to please! Wait, I know…” she rolls over and pulls him atop her, the blanket wrapping around them tighter.

“Oh? What are you doing?”

Satine rolls again, this time underneath him. The blanket binds them even closer and she manages a couple more rotations; it will take great effort now to unfurl them. 

“I can’t move, dear, but this is quite cozy and warm.” Of all the places in the galaxy to be trapped, beneath the Duchess of Mandalore is Obi-Wan’s top choice. 

“Well, I needed a captive audience to practice my speech,'' she gloats, stroking his beard, “so we both win.”


	16. Stay

Satine pours two glasses; she is alone, but not for long. It has been almost two months since returning to Mandalore, to this partially bombed out palace she now calls home. And every night since, she has welcomed a visitor into her room.

“Obi, you’re late. I thought you might have been caught.”

“I haven’t been yet,” the Jedi reminds her. Tonight he seems fidgety, tense, like somebody on the verge of the most important day of his life.

“Then what kept you away from our  _ very _ important meeting?” she pries, handing him a glass.

“I was meditating...I had to clear my head a bit.” 

The morning’s abrupt news hangs in the air and they both ignore it, pretending that the Jedi Council never contacted Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan about the end of their mission.

He glares at the wine, swishes it around. “What’s the occasion?”

“Do we require one?” she raises an eyebrow. 

Obi-Wan shrugs and swigs his drink. “This is...rather strong,” he winces.

“No it isn’t,” she demonstrates with a long sip. 

“You never cease to impress me with your abilities.”

“I  _ do  _ hold my drink rather well.”

“No, no I meant...you were exceptional today at your briefing. I was patrolling the hallway, but I heard most of your speech and,” he takes a deep breath, with stars in his eyes, “Satine, I...I’m so proud of you. Of everything you’ve accomplished in this short time.”

“Oh,” she blushes, “as much as I’d like to, I won’t claim  _ all _ the credit. Your encouragement has been instrumental in my success recently.”

“It’s merely encouragement. You’re doing all the hard work yourself.”

“And I fear it will become much harder,” she sighs.

They both know it can no longer be avoided.

“Is it true you might be sent back tomorrow?”

He nods slowly, inhales deeply, “But maybe I won’t. I could...stay.” 

“Will you ask to extend your presence here?” 

“No.”

“But then how-”

“I’ve told you before, Jedi are allowed to leave the Order, at any time. There are plenty of honorable reasons to. Some have even left to...to marry.”

_ You fool, I’m not a reason to give up your entire life.  _ “I’m sure that was a difficult decision for them,” she shakily pours another glass for herself and for Obi-Wan. Wine splashes onto the floor. 

“It is,” his voice quavers, “but not if they are needed elsewhere.”

_ He wants me to make the decision for him.  _ Unfortunately for Obi-Wan, Satine never wavers after making up her mind. 

“There is no greater calling than to promote and defend peace,” she reminds him. They are devoting their lives to causes, to duty; but they are unable to do so together.

“And you might need me...need me to help,” he stammers, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I wasn’t talking about Mandalore. I’m sure there’s no shortage of people in the galaxy in need of help.” She has never seen him so conflicted and pained before. Both paths require a sacrifice.  _ Whatever I choose, it will hurt him.  _

“That is true, but-”

She presses a finger against his lips “I didn’t invite you here to debate. There’s plenty of time for that during the day.” There might not  _ be _ another day to argue, she rues, downing the rest of her drink. It hasn’t numbed her like she had hoped. No more heated quarrels or thoughtful conversations. No more advice, no comfort, no one to truly understand her.

“So then why did the Duchess invite me to her quarters in the middle of the night?” he asks, feigning innocence. He seems to have been freed of his internal battle, if only temporarily. 

“Certainly not to question me,” she whispers while unfastening his belt. No further words are spoken, nothing intelligible anyway. 

This will be their last night together. Satine both embraces and dreads this fact, resolving to give them both a memory to savor after he leaves. After she  _ makes _ him leave; but she refuses to acknowledge that right now.

She undresses him slowly, relishing it as he sheds layers of clothing and inhibitions. Obi-Wan proves a little more impatient in disrobing her, but still makes the effort to kiss each part he uncovers. They then plunge into a familiar, passionate ritual. 

How far they’ve come, she soon reflects fondly, from awkward, stolen kisses to perceptive lovers.  _ You’ve mastered yet another skill, Kenobi.  _ She digs her nails into his shoulders as the night’s first wave of pleasure hits. She doesn’t care for his braid tickling her thigh, but she’ll soon miss that, too. She commits the sensation to memory, along with everything else; the salty taste of his skin, those soft moans and gasps he has no control over. Her hands, and mouth, trace over every inch of him; she never wants to forget. 

When their eyes meet, she realizes no one will ever look at her like this again. For a very brief and selfish moment, she considers keeping him all for herself. But she loses her train of thought, and breath, when he enters her. There’s no space for regret or reminiscing now as they move together as one, climbing together toward their peaks. There’s no other focus except on their rhythm, on each other...

They finish, collapse. Satine fights back tears, wondering how an act so rapturous can leave her in despair. This is the last time she will witness that tranquil smile of contentment, nestle into his arms, and feel completely safe. 

This is the first time Obi-Wan decides to utter three simple, enormous words:

“I love you.”

Satine hopes she is wrong, that she simply misheard him over shallow breaths and rustling sheets. How could the words she longed to hear for so long hurt so much? Faking a laugh, she responds with “That’s just the wine talking,” and kisses him so he can say nothing further. She wishes that tomorrow will never come. 

Obi-Wan falls into a deep sleep, the weight of his confession now lifted. He is unaware of Satine weeping quietly beside him.  _ I love you, too. I don’t have the courage to tell you, and I doubt I ever will. I love you so much that I’m letting you go.  _


	17. Jar Jar’s Secrets

“Heyo, Obi!”

The Gungan sprung toward Obi-Wan in the empty senate corridor, practically bouncing with joy. The Jedi didn’t have the strength today to deal with his enthusiasm. 

“Hello, Jar Jar. What a pleasure it is to see you,” he responded flatly. 

“Mesa no seen Obi since yousa wit duchessy lady in bombad hat.”

_ “Pardon me _ ?”

“Yousa maken kissy,” he mimicked a kiss, a repulsive gesture that sullied the very notion of romance. 

“You must be mistaken, no you are  _ definitely _ mistaken about what you saw.” The thought of Jar Jar Binks being a voyeur to his intimate moments was disturbing. 

“Funny yousa sayen so. Padmé also sayen mesa mistaken when my seen her wit Ani. Deysa jus berry good palos, shesa sayen.”

For a brief moment, Obi-Wan considered performing a mind trick. But Jar Jar was too...simple. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

“Do you know what happens when you snoop around the Senate building, Jar Jar? And when you don’t keep your mouth shut?”

“Nosa!” he exclaimed, shaking his head.

“ _ Horrible _ things,” he revealed, ominously. “Gossip is not looked well upon in the Senate. You would be removed in disgrace. Shunned. Forced to fend for yourself in the meanest parts of Coruscant. I refuse to tell you further, for it is  _ not _ pleasant to speak of, just imagine the most torturous existence you can...it is worse than that.” 

Jar Jar trembled and covered his eyes. “Oie no!”

“So it would be in your best interest to not spy on Jedi, or tell anyone what you  _ think _ you saw.”

The Gungan nodded furiously, promising he wouldn’t. There was fear in his eyes, but that was a good sign. Secrets were safe. Although, there was a minuscule chance anyone would’ve listened to Jar Jar anyway. 

“Good then,” Obi-Wan smiled. “I’m glad we were able to have this informative conversation.” 

  
  
  
  



	18. Force Tricks

Satine wasn’t sure what woke her first - the cracks of light sneaking through the windows, or the beard scratching against the back of her neck. Either way, it was time to wake up. 

“Obi-Wan?” she whispered, unsure if he was still asleep. He _should_ be, who knew how long it had been since this man slept. She shouldn’t have kept him up so late, either. 

“Hm?” was the drowsy answer muffled into her hair. His arm tightened around her waist.

“It’s morning.”

She was expecting a response. Normally he would have somewhere to be, something important to do, that would prevent him from staying late. But there was silence. 

“You can stay and rest as long as you need, but I have a very busy-”

“Mmmph,” the Jedi mumbled. He drew down the shades with a flick of his hand, vanquishing the light of dawn. 

“You know I despise it when you do... _that_.” She found the Force acceptable for matters of life and death, not for tricks. And definitely not for tricks this early.

He pulled her even closer. For a second, Satine contemplated canceling all of today’s meetings. “Let go, I have to get dressed,” she fought the temptation, but it was not easy.

With another swift gesture, he lifted her clothes off the floor and gently tossed them across the room. 

“You are really testing my patience,” she huffed, agitated yet amused at his playfulness. “A Jedi holding the duchess of a neutral system hostage? So much for diplomacy.”

He roused suddenly, freeing her from his snug grasp. “Oh, sorry dear. I was…” he stifled a yawn, “...asleep.”

“You were using your... _abilities_ in your sleep?” Of course she didn’t believe him. Another one of those half-truths he was so adept at.

Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes. “Yes, it happens all the time.”

“Well, isn’t that interesting,” Satine scoffed, wrapping herself in a silk robe. “I expect to still see you here when I return.”

“Now who’s holding who hostage?”

“As if you don’t enjoy being my captive.”

“Finally, something we agree on.”

  
  
  
  



	19. Foundlings

Satine knew she was bound to run into Obi-Wan in the Senate building today. However, she did not anticipate him being accompanied by his _children_ , as she often referred to them.

She knew he had his hands full with those two. They were kind-hearted and dauntless yet somewhat... feral. Nothing at all like her own “foundling;” Korkie would never cause trouble. 

“Master Kenobi, so nice to see you again.”

“Duchess,” he bowed his head and quickly stopped himself from taking her hand. He had already failed at being inconspicuous in her presence. He failed every time.

She politely greeted the two younger Jedi, who appeared to be privy to some secret joke and on the verge of inappropriate laughter. 

Obi-Wan alternated between scowling at the pair and softly gazing at Satine. 

Well, I’ll let you resume your assignment with your foundlings. Perhaps we can catch up another time,” she spoke with a sly grin.

“Yes, another time soon,” he nodded and longingly watched her leave the corridor. 

“ _Foundling_?” Anakin blurted out, not sure if it was an insult. “What is she talking about?”

“Oh, uh, that would be a Mandalorian term.” He rubbed his chin, completely absorbed in his plans for later. “She was being facetious, I suppose.” Of course Satine _knew_ what a padawan was, he thought; she fell in love with one. 

“What does it mean?” Ahsoka asked.

“In her culture, there is a custom of taking in abandoned children and raising them as your own.”

“Ah, I see,” a knowing smile broke across Skywalker’s face. 

“Huh, can you _imagine_ Master Obi-Wan adopting us, Anakin?”

“More like Obi-Wan _and the Duchess_ adopting us,” he muttered with a smirk. 

“What was that, Anakin?”

“Oh nothing.” They held back their laughter while Obi-Wan simply shook his head. 

  
  



	20. Harm’s Way

“No, no...Satine? Satine, please. Please…” Obi-Wan knelt down beside her limp body, frantically searching for signs of life.  _ I’ve failed you. I failed to keep you safe.  _ He found her heartbeat, her shallow breaths, while nearly losing himself in regret. 

He placed an unsteady hand on her forehead and channeled the Force, struggling to remain calm and focused. Her vitals were strong, and he could sense her slowly regaining consciousness. He threw his head back and sighed with overwhelming relief.  _ I almost lost her.  _

He waited impatiently for her to wake, stroking her cheek, gingerly wiping away blood from her busted lip. “You are a tough one. But I already knew that,” he told her softly. 

“Obi…”

“Satine, can you hear me?”

“Mmhm,” she blinked, wincing out a small smile.

An intense storm of emotions swirled inside of him. He had never been as in love with her than at this moment - or as angry with her. Obi-Wan’s fears ultimately triumphed over all reason or balance. 

“Why did you do it?! Why didn’t you listen to me?!”

The duchess flinched at his outburst; she did not anticipate an angry reunion. “I...I was trying to-”

“Get yourself killed?!” he shouted, his control slipping away.

“You needed help!” she tried to match his tone but it caused her lungs to ache.

“I can take care of myself! What exactly were you going to do? Use yourself as a shield?! You can barely even defend yourself, how were you going to save  _ me _ ?”

They argued frequently, but it was cordial, respectful. This was different; her protector was yelling, scolding her with pain in his eyes. She didn’t know what to make of his unexpected behavior, and the throbbing ache in her head wasn’t helping her think straight. “I couldn’t just stand there and watch you die.”

“I have no intention of dying,” he leaned in closer, lips trembling, “don’t you  _ dare _ endanger yourself because of me again!”

“But I-” Satine’s voice broke into a pitiful sob. She turned her head away, unable to finish.

A sudden deluge of shame washed away his anger. He had made her cry, caused her to hurt more when she was already vulnerable and injured.  _ All because you couldn’t control your emotions. Poor excuse for a Jedi, you are. _

__ “You’re in no shape to walk. I’ll carry you back.”

“Not if you are going to treat me like...like…” she couldn’t manage another word with the tears streaming from her half closed eyes.

“We have to go, it’s not safe out here,” he decided, lifting her carefully. Satine didn’t protest,  _ couldn’t _ , really; she weakly wrapped her sore arms around his neck yet refused to look at him. 

Obi-Wan carried her in silence for a while, until he gathered enough courage to confront his feelings. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was...upset by seeing you hurt. What you did was foolish.”

She took her time responding. “I appreciate your swift apology, and I accept it. But my actions were worth the risk.”

“I’m not worth any risk,” the Jedi shook his head. Satine was too exhausted to argue, but she would remind him later that this was untrue.

“I vowed to protect  _ you _ . If anything were to happen, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I can’t lose you.” Saying it aloud jolted Obi-Wan like an electric shock.  _ This is what attachment is _ ?  _ What I’ve been warned about? _ It frightened him.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder. There was nothing left to say. 

_ Perhaps I can control it. I could stop loving her. Or I could leave… _

_ How can I ever let go? _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	21. Defending the Duchess

_“Aruetyc dar’manda!_ “ A man lunges at the Duchess on a crowded Sundari street, determined to cause as much damage as possible. 

The Jedi shields her with his body, his quick reflexes preventing any harm from reaching her.

“ _Ori’dush dala! Aruetyc dar’manda!”_

Two guards rush the attacker, scuffling with him as he continues to swear and thrash, wild eyes filled with hatred. 

“Get back,” warns the Jedi. He is still merely a padawan, but he carries himself with such authority and confidence in this moment that only a braid gives away his true status. This mission has brought that out in him - the stakes are too high for hesitation. 

“ _Etyc Jetii!_ ” He is finally restrained, but not before spitting on the young pair.

“Don’t...don’t hurt him, _please_ ,” Satine calls to her guards as they haul away this remnant of an old society still desperate to fight. 

Obi-Wan swiftly leads her away from the commotion until they find solitude in an alley. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes, I’ve been called worse,” she shrugs, her calm, aloof facade wearing thin for once. 

He shakes his head in disgust. She bears most hostility with grace, yet he can sense her frustration - and hurt. 

“Don’t be offended on my behalf,” she places her hand on his shoulder and lets it remain there for a little too long. “I can handle it.” Her eyes shift over to the civilians passing along the street. “However, perhaps I should no longer travel outside. Innocent people could be injured by these detractors on account of my presence. I won’t take that risk.”

The thought of her hidden away, worried for the welfare of others makes his heart drop. They had spent nearly a year on the run and she _still_ doesn’t feel safe; he must do a better job at protecting her. 

“It will get better. It has only been a month since returning, and look at the progress you’ve made so far,” he reminds, hoping to encourage her. 

Satine looks around at the war-damaged city. “Sometimes it feels like no progress at all. I can’t win over everyone,” she sighs. 

“You are very persuasive, though. I would know,” Obi-Wan winks. Some playfulness might lift her spirits. 

“Well, in some ways,” she concedes with a teasing grin. 

“I know you have trouble asking for help, but I will do everything I possibly can. Whatever you need.”

“Such a sweet offer,” she takes his hands into her’s, “but, you must realize, this is _my_ obligation. I would do this all on my own if I had to. To see peace, I would give up... _everything.”_

He knows she is serious. He isn’t quite sure what that means for him - for _them -_ but her devotion to her cause is so admirable, so honorable, it only makes him love her more. “Don’t sacrifice too much, Satine. You deserve to be happy.”

“Sacrifice is unavoidable,” she declares, fully aware of her duties, “and I wouldn’t say I’m entitled to _deserve_ anything. Although you do make me quite happy.” 

They both check their surroundings and decide they are secluded enough to allow for a brief embrace. It is bold of them to be affectionate in public, but less so than being intimate in private.

“I was wondering though, what did that man call me?” 

“A filthy Jedi,” the Duchess stifles a laugh with her sleeve. 

“Oh, I’ve been called worse. Possibly by you.”

“Nonsense,” she smiles, “I use only the most endearing words for you, _ner mesh’la mir’sheb_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aruetyc dar’manda - traitorous Mandalorian who has betrayed their culture 
> 
> ori’dush dala - evil woman 
> 
> etyc Jetii - filthy Jedi
> 
> ner mesh’la mir’sheb - my handsome smartass


	22. Secrets

Their eyes are fixated on the night sky; their minds roam elsewhere, to ideas less attainable than the farthest reaches of space. 

“We have a superstition that falling stars are secrets that have been confessed,” Satine shares, nostalgic for a youth that was stolen from her. 

“There must be a lot of secrets in the Galaxy, then.” Obi-Wan knows his own might never fall.

“May I tell you one? So there is one less to crowd up there?”

“Oh, uh, of course,” he tenses. 

“I feel ashamed to say it, but sometimes…sometimes I wish I had a different life.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, even though he fully understands. 

“That I had been born into a different destiny. Without all this responsibility,” she stares wistfully at the stars, “just an ordinary girl from an ordinary place.”

“I-I think you’d still be extraordinary, no matter what your circumstances.”

She shakes her head, thankful that the night hides her reddening cheeks. “I know it’s a rather selfish fantasy.” 

“No, I think most of us dream of what could have been...what could be.”

“Do _you?_ ”

Obi-Wan hesitates. “Yes. Although, we aren’t encouraged to have such thoughts.” He crosses his arms tight against his chest. “They may become harmful.”

“Jedi aren’t allowed to daydream? Why am I not surprised.”

“It serves no purpose to mourn a life that doesn’t exist. And it can tempt us to diverge from our duties.” 

“I would _never_ be swayed!” the Duchess vows, her zeal palpable and intense. “I know what I must do. My people will no longer experience violence, war, or senseless death. That is worth _far_ more than any frivolous, hypothetical existence I can fabricate for myself.” 

“I never doubt your commitment, Satine. You are on a very noble path.”

“As are you.” She notices his hand has moved closer to her, his fingers drumming anxiously into the grass.

“I didn’t mean to imply it’s wrong to imagine anything else.” The last thing he wants is an argument; it is too perfect a night for that. 

She places her hand over his. “It _is_ enticing to wonder, at times. Isn’t it? When the situation is...challenging.”

“I agree.”

Far above them, countless secrets streak across the sky, revealing themselves to those who care to watch; yet others remain concealed, waiting for another opportunity. 


	23. Last Day

It has been a long mission, a difficult one, but the council has deemed their service complete. As Qui-Gon prepares the ship, he wonders if he will be returning alone.

Obi-Wan has been gone for much longer than expected. This seems too long for a goodbye and his master debates whether to send him a message. He worries he may lose his padawan, even though he believes he bears some responsibility for the situation. 

He had watched idly as Obi-Wan fell in love with the Duchess. He knew they conversed late into the nights while they were on the run. He was aware of their lingering looks, the discreet touches. Once back on Mandalore, their affair became less subtle and certainly not quiet; hearing his apprentice’s distinct footsteps treading to her room was a frequent occurrence. 

There are regrets; he could have communicated better, offered advice or even insight from his own past. But all he had done was warn of “distractions;” vague, unhelpful guidance, he realizes now. Why didn’t he do more to stop it? Perhaps he was reluctant to impede on Obi-Wan’s happiness. Or, he wanted him to make the choice about his own future. Afterall, this may be the will of the Force...

The young Jedi comes into view, head down, shoulders slumped.  _ Whatever happens _ , Qui-Gon thinks,  _ I will support him _ . He enters the cockpit, his red eyes staring blankly out the window. 

“Obi-Wan?”

“Are we ready to go?” he answers numbly. 

“You’ve made your choice, I see.”

He does not appear shocked by his master’s casual acknowledgment of his struggle - or is too upset to care. “She said I should...that I should go,” he confesses, wiping his face with his sleeve. 

Qui-Gon wants to tell him that he’s not the first lovestruck padawan, and that it hurts, yes, but the tenets of the Jedi will heal him.

But he can’t. He just can’t do it. Something inside holds him back, whispering what a failure of a master he’s been. 

“This is where you’re meant to be. Trust in the Force.” 

Obi-Wan winces, hesitant to trust in anything at this moment.

“You will be able to put this behind you.” 

He nods, unsure if that’s truly possible. 

Qui-Gon puts a hand on his shoulder. They fly back to Coruscant in silence. 

  
  
  
  
  



	24. Chapter 24

Obi-Wan tilts his weary head toward the night sky of Tatooine. The cries of strange beasts echo across the canyons and dunes. It is a lonely place. A very fitting place for him.   


Everyone is gone. He can’t accept this truth yet, because if he does, the desert might swallow him and he might not fight back. So he tilts his head toward the night sky and focuses on the stars. 

The stars. 

They have watched everything unfold. They know all the secrets. They bathe his face in their light. They illuminate the tear rolling down his cheek. 

Each star is a regret. And there are innumerable regrets. They taunt him, remind him of all the blame he has laid upon himself. 

There is one star, larger than the rest. So far away yet so bright. The biggest regret. He says a name he hasn’t spoken aloud since….

The name passes his lips; it is snatched up by the wind and floats away, beyond the canyons and dunes, as if he has no right to speak it. 

“ _ Satine _ .”

She can’t hear him, she is gone too. Because of him. He used to believe that there was no death; there was the Force. He isn’t sure if he still believes in that now. 

Then she would be a part of the stars, and in the sand whipping against his hut, and in the strange cries of the desert. But she’s not. She is somewhere much closer. Buried deep within. 

“If I stayed, would it have still happened?”

There is no response, of course. Even the all-knowing stars don’t have an answer to the question. Despite this, they still cast their light across the galaxy. 

They have seen the worst. 

They still exist. She still exists. They all do. Obi-Wan tilts his head toward the night sky and vows he won’t lose himself to the desert. 


	25. Chapter 25

_Why am I doing this?_ Obi-Wan thought as he crawled through the high grass on his hands and knees. Tiny insects bit and swarmed around him, too numerous to swat away efficiently. If he could pull this off, it might be one of his more impressive feats - finding an earring in a vast open field. 

It wasn’t just an earring, it was Satine’s earring. And locating it might get him in her good graces again. Possibly; that standing was never guaranteed for long. Just today, he had inadvertently insulted her during a heated debate. “That isn’t something you say to a woman, let alone a Mandalorian woman,” Qui-Gon told him afterward. _How was I supposed to know that?_

His regrets were interrupted by strange pincers emerging from the ground; there was a sharp tug of his braid and his face slammed hard into the dirt. 

“Not now,” he sighed. He flicked his hand, lazily drawing on the Force to push the pincers, and whatever they were attached to, deep back into their underground lair. 

He was ready to accept defeat and return empty handed. But what if it was some treasured heirloom of hers? Finding it would likely lift her mood. _Just a few more minutes_ , he convinced himself. 

A few minutes turned into an hour, because when Obi-Wan had a plan, he had to see it through. Even if it was vague, and not really a plan. _Why am I doing this?_

****

“Where _were_ you?!” The Duchess’s frantic pacing had worn a small ditch into the soil. 

“I found your earring.” 

Confused, she checked each ear and touched only one dangling jewel. _She didn’t even know it was lost,_ he realized. 

“That’s what you were off doing? In these dangerous times...how utterly irresponsible!”

“Perhaps it was,” he answered, crestfallen. 

“You nearly had me in a panic,” she admitted, which was unusual because she never panicked. “What in the stars possessed you to do something so foolish?”

“I really don’t know,” he answered honestly. “Maybe I was trying to make amends for what I said earlier.”

“And what was that? You don’t expect me to keep track of every sarcastic comment you make, do you?” _She doesn’t even remember,_ he realized. 

“Nevermind then. Consider it a peace offering for the next time I inevitably offend you.” Obi-Wan handed the earring to her with a weary smirk. 

She hooked it back into her bare earlobe. “ _Jare’la utreekov*...”_

“What?”

“Thank you,” she said begrudgingly. 

“It was nothing, really.” He rubbed his swollen fingers, which had accidentally crushed an anthill. Satine would not be pleased to learn a colony of Horned Stinging Ants was wiped out by his clumsy hand.

“Nothing to _you_ , maybe,” she mumbled, still clearly agitated. 

“So you were worried about me?” 

Satine opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She looked toward the sky as if searching for an acceptable response. “I would feel terribly guilty if you were injured or...or worse for such a frivolous reason. Do you want that on my conscience?”

“Of course not.”

“Then _don’t_ do it again,” she ordered with fearsome authority. 

“I won’t worry you,” he promised. _She wouldn’t have been so concerned if she truly disliked me,_ he realized.

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “How did you even know it was missing?”

Obi-Wan had noticed it while watching her tuck her hair back, which she did very often. In fact, she was doing it now: her long, exquisite fingers delicately brushing strands of flaxen silk behind the curve of her ear, lightly freckled from the sun...

“Uh, Jedi are very attuned to that sort of thing.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Stupidly reckless fool


	26. Hungry

Satine dropped her ration bar into Obi-Wan’s lap. “Here, for you.”

“If you wanted me to check if it’s been poisoned, you could just ask,” he quipped.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just not hungry.” 

“Keep it, you might be later.” 

“I insist you take it,” she was serious and her pursed lips proved it. “You don’t eat enough.” 

“Years of meals at the Jedi temple have prepared me for times of famine. I’ll be fine.”

She ignored his protests, determined to overcome this frustrating stalemate.

“Really though, I’m forbidden to accept charity from hungry duchesses.”

“I’m  _ not _ hungry.” She concealed the growls of her empty stomach with impassioned reasoning: “What good are you as a bodyguard if you’re half starved? How will you have the strength to carry me to safety if need be? You are putting us both at risk! So  _ eat _ , for both our sakes.”

“Very well, I can’t argue with that.” After she left he hid it in a pouch on his belt, which was beginning to loosen around his waist. 

The next day, while sorting and doling out their dwindling supplies, Obi-Wan handed her two ration bars. “Seems I miscounted and you get a bit extra today.” 

“Do you think I’m stupid? This is what I gave you last night!”

“No it isn’t. I...I definitely ate it like you asked. They all look the same, Satine. It isn’t the one you gave me.”

“You're clearly lying,” she accused with confidence. “The corner of your mouth twitches when you lie. Take it,  _ please _ . Before it rots.”

“They don’t rot. I’m pretty sure they’re supposed to last forever.”

“And I certainly don’t want to spend  _ forever _ playing your silly games.”

He took the bar and snapped it in two, which required some effort - they were supposed to be durable, after all. 

“Here, a simple solution. We each take half.” 

“A  _ half _ -satisfying negotiation...” she contemplated, “is preferable to nothing, I guess. I’m  _ not _ conceding, I’m merely tired of your antics. You shouldn’t count this as a win, Kenobi.”

“I thought we weren’t playing games? There is no need to keep score.”

She privately ate her share with unmannerly gusto, imagining it as something delicious rather than a flavorless lump of nutrients. 

The next night, Satine nearly screamed when she pulled out half a ration bar from her sleeping bag.

“Obi-Wan! Explain yourself.”

He roused from his feigned sleep. “Oh, that might take a while.” 

She waved it in his face, so close that he had to cross his eyes to focus on the misshapen morsel. 

”What is this?!”

“Very unappetizing.”

“Why are you so... _ difficult _ ? You agreed to take it!”

“I did. But I never said what I intended to do with it.” He rolled over to hide his amusement. This reminded him of the merciless padawan pranks he used to participate in. 

“Ughhh!” She threw it back at him, even though it was not proper, borderline  _ violent _ , even. She did not care. He had a tendency to elicit strong emotions in her.

Satine found the bar on her blanket the next day and kept quiet. She retaliated by placing it in his boot. He didn’t mention it either, only a startled exclamation revealed its discovery. 

It continued for several days, long after their food situation improved. Then it continued for several weeks. They were too stubborn to let it go. It became a daily ritual, a comforting gesture - except it often included groans of disgust, maybe a chuckle if found in an unexpected place. 

“Do you honestly expect me to still eat this, Obi-Wan? It’s covered in filth and is as hard as beskar!”

“You never know, we could become desperate again.”

It continued until they were forced to flee in haste one night; the hardy ration bar did not escape with them. At that point its only value was sentimental (and possibly as a weapon, Obi-Wan suggested, though Satine didn’t find that humorous) and they mourned its absence. 

“Now we’ll never know how long they last.”

But by then, they had more reliable food sources and new, covert ways to share affection. 

“Such a shame. Perhaps you should have eaten it when I first suggested,” she laughed as she squeezed his hand. 


	27. Gift

Obi-Wan squinted into the sun as he watched her pick dirt and bits of local flora out of his long braid. 

“Could you…could you  _ please _ be a little more gentle?”

“Oh? I am barely touching it!” Satine was being careless, rough even, but she knew he didn’t really mind. She draped the braid beneath his nose, making an absurd mustache. He couldn’t resist a brief smile, despite his annoyance. 

“Here,” she let it go, “tightly wound and always getting in the way. Just like you.”

He tucked it behind his ear and huffed. “If only you understood its significance.” 

She lay her head down in his lap. “So...what  _ is _ the significance?”

“To display our status as Padawans.” He plucked a leaf from her hair.

“And? What does it  _ represent _ ?” 

“It represents...commitment...and...and....”

Her lips parted in anticipation of an answer. 

“...Well, there are standards we have to follow, Satine!”

“Ah,” she raised her chin, “I see. But what is tradition if there is no meaning behind it?”

“A bad haircut.”

She covered her mouth with the back of her hand. It was a rare occasion when Obi-Wan didn’t take himself seriously. “ _ You _ said it, not I!”

“You were  _ thinking _ it!”

“Can Jedi read minds now?”

“I certainly can’t!” 

“You don’t keep the braid forever, obviously.” She batted at it playfully, trying to imagine him without one. 

“Until we become knights... _ if _ we become knights.”

“Then what becomes of it? Is there an enormous pile of them stacked in your temple?” 

“We give them away,” he answered, distracted. A strand of her silky hair had found its way around his fingers.

“What a strange gift! Yet I suppose rope  _ is _ rather useful.”

“They are presented to those who have been instrumental in our journey to knighthood. Those who helped us find our strengths, taught us valuable lessons-”

“Your masters?”

“Yes, usually.”

“Qui-Gon will be proud to have yours hanging on his wall like a trophy!” She laughed, thinking of the image rather than the implications. 

His shoulders slumped. “I hope so.”

Satine sat up, abruptly woken from a dream. What was she doing? Being careless, once again. 

“I hope so, too.” She was grateful he couldn’t actually read her mind.  _ I’m not worth years of training, hardships, and sacrifice _ , she lamented.  _ How selfish of me. _

“What is it?” He could sense the sudden tension. It sank between them like a heavy fog. 

“I should stop tugging at your braid then, since it is quite important for your Jedi rituals.” 

“Oh, right. Of course.”

______

Satine placed the box on her lap, finally ready to assuage her curiosity. Why would the Jedi temple send her a package? It must have something to do with the awful news that arrived recently. She hoped her creeping dread would dissipate with the reveal.

It was coiled like a serpent, ready to strike at her heart. 

She touched the neat, thin cords, the soft tuft of hair at the end. It was longer now. Of course it was, it had been several years. There was no message, nothing inside except a shorn padawan braid. 

She recalled the times she half jokingly threatened to rip it off; he always did know how to rile her up. The way it would lie dormant on his shoulder until some sudden action caused it to go airborne. The feel of it tickling her, brushing lightly against her skin. 

Satine slammed the lid shut to prevent more memories from seeping out. Yet she did remember what it meant.

“A Jedi knight,” she whispered. 

She couldn’t be more proud. 


	28. Clumsy

He stumbled again, this time nearly landing in a ditch. 

Satine assumed a Jedi would be more coordinated. More alert. She was beginning to have doubts that this clumsy boy would be able to protect her. At least master Jinn seemed capable enough. 

“Are you alright?” 

Obi-Wan straightened his belt. “I’m fine.”

“You seem to be prone to…falling.” 

“It’s because my eyes are on you.” His cheeks turned red. “I mean, I’m watching you…I’m watching you for danger. There is danger all around us, Duchess.”

She must have wounded his pride, for he was exceedingly flustered. 

“Oh. Thank you. But do be careful, please. The greatest danger at the moment seems to be uneven ground.” 

***

It wasn’t long before actual danger found them. 

Obi-Wan leapt to her defense, accompanied by the hum of an ignited saber. He became her shield, with no trace of that bumbling, unsteady apprentice to be seen. 

He guided her to a secure spot. “Stay low,” he ordered with a calmness that instantly settled her nerves. He ran back to join his master in the melee, though his eyes never left her. With no words, he conveyed a simple promise: _I will keep you safe._

He was agile and quick, deflecting blaster bolts with effortless, fluid movements; a perilous dance of skill and instinct and something else that Satine did not possess nor fully understand. 

The threat was swiftly extinguished with a necessary yet proper amount of force - she would condone nothing more. No lives taken, her protectors unharmed.

Satine had been wrong; Obi-Wan was very competent. And brave. Her heart now pounded louder than during the attack. This new truth was exhilarating. 

“Are you alright?” he panted, with genuine concern fixed on his brow. 

The Duchess emerged from her hiding spot slightly shaken. Weak in the knees, mostly. 

“I’m wonderful, thank you.” 


End file.
